


Eyes of Sky

by bleakstudent



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Street Racing, Vicchan Dies, and yuuri handles his emotions in a not so great way, au where yuuri doesn't skate and has a midlife crisis at the ripe old age of 22, he drives, vroom vroom motherfuckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 10:31:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13409370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakstudent/pseuds/bleakstudent
Summary: There was an urban legend in Hasetsu—if you were up early enough in the morning or up late enough at night, you would be able to hear the screeching tires of a Toyota AE86 in the mountain passes of Mt. Hachiman.





	Eyes of Sky

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for the cars

Katsuki Yuuri got his driver’s license when he was 18. He was still a high schooler then, wearily cautious of his future and unable to relieve himself of societal pressures. Driving was just something he did to help out the family inn, occasionally delivering take-out in his father’s beat-up AE86 Toyota Trueno. He had memories of when he was younger, watching old tapes of his father’s, videos of someone named Tsuchiya Keiichi and his impeccable drift on the racetrack and on the mountain passes. Every time, his father would sit down next to him in front of the TV and say, “I went out and bought an 86 to copy him, you know. I never had the guts to drift or anything like that, but it was a smooth ride.” Every time, his father would smile peacefully and say, “I’m glad I bought it. It’s been my companion in life all these years.” 

Yuuri didn’t understand his father’s words at 8, and he certainly didn’t understand them at 18. He placed his faith and his trust into his family and his friends and his dog, never comprehending how something not living, not breathing, would be able to understand him as a person. He was always someone who experienced with his emotions, and the idea that something no more than a hunk of metal would be able to reciprocate his feelings in any fashion baffled him. 

The night his dog died, Yuuri burned rubber like he never had before. By then he was 22, acutely aware that he would inherit the inn from his parents and would spend the rest of his adult life caring for the dwindling number of tourists in Hasetsu. When he first heard the news of Vicchan’s death, Yuuri’s immediate reaction was that he needed to leave—where didn’t matter to him, only that he needed to escape from the terrifying reality that his life companion had ascended and left him alone to face the future by himself. Hurriedly, he grabbed the keys to the 86 parked outside the inn, ignored his family’s worried calls of his name, unlocked the driver’s side door, sat down, and started up the ignition. For a while, he let the engine idle and listened to its low hum, listlessly staring at the stretch of road in front of him. He sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. “You know,” he whispered, voice choked, “Vicchan was probably my only friend aside from Yuuko and maybe Takeshi. I’ve just had him for so long, and he’s been by my side for so long… I don’t know if I’ll be able to function properly without him, you know?” He laughed pitifully. “What am I even saying…? It’s not like you’ll be able to understand… or respond at all…” Tears filled his eyes and slid down his cheeks as Yuuri sobbed into the cold, unfeeling embrace of the 86’s soft croon.

Hours later, when his tears had dried, Yuuri resolved to just _drive_. Flipping the headlights on and settling into his seat, he pressed down on clutch and brake, shifting into first gear. Pushing his glasses up with his right hand, he released the clutch and moved his right foot to the gas. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, hardened his expression, and said “I’ll be going now” to no one in particular. 

Roaming the streets of Hasetsu with no one else gave him a strange sense of independence and freedom. No one else’s expectations to meet, no one else’s unheard laughs about his lack of motivation—the simple lack in the middle of the night gave Yuuri confidence and recklessness never before seen in the young adult. At the inn, he was always well-tempered, well-meaning, and modest; here, he urged the car to go faster— _faster and faster_ , he thought, _I need to go faster_. Right foot harshly slamming the gas pedal. _Go faster_. Right foot off the gas; left foot on clutch. Shift lever jammed up and right. _Faster_. Right foot on the gas; left foot easing off the clutch. _Faster_. Pushing the gas even further. _I want to_ … Unbidden recollections of the Drift King’s videos entered his consciousness. Fast cars, _racing cars_ , sliding around corners in one smooth, exhilarating motion— _I want to_ … Slamming on the gas after exiting the corner, recklessly attacking the corner— _I want to_ … Slowing to a stop in front of the inn, Yuuri came to a startling realization. “I want to drift,” he gasped. “ _I want to drift_.”

**Author's Note:**

> will u believe me if i said i did real research on how to drift


End file.
